


Baby Needs A Clean

by persephone_garnata



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Dean, Dean wears booty shorts, Episode: s11e04 Baby, Established Relationship, Feels, Impala, M/M, Sex on the Impala, Top Sam, implied sexual tension with Cas, mostly canon compliant, only it's complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5104019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone_garnata/pseuds/persephone_garnata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean cleans Baby in booty shorts, which drives Sam crazy with lust. But Dean is struggling with his feelings and desires, and as they hit the road for a 'probably nothing' hunt in Oregon, sexual tension in the Impala is running high.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Needs A Clean

**Author's Note:**

> So, um, I wasn't going to write any more fan fic for a while as I'm planning to do NaNoWriMo. Then I watched 11x04, had a complete fangasm, and needed to write a fic about Dean cleaning Baby in shorts.  
> So, um, originally this was just going to be a pwp about sex over the hood of the Impala with soap suds everywhere. Then THE FEELS hit and it turned into something rather more angsty and bittersweet. But there's still sex over the hood of the Impala.  
> Song lyrics are from 'Black Dog' by Led Zeppelin.

Baby Needs a Clean

 

‘Hey hey mama said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove,

a-ha child the way you shake that thing, gonna make you burn, gonna make you sting,’ Dean sang to himself as he happily splashed soapy water over his Baby, bending over to rub her with a sponge. And if he waggled his ass a little bit while he did so, well, so what? He could waggle his ass if he wanted to, and it wasn’t like anyone was watching him.

 

***

 

                His brother was watching him, from the doorway, breathing hard. Sweet Jesus, where had Dean got those booty shorts? And why did he feel the need to wear them while washing the Impala, like a teenage temptress in a bad porn movie called something like ‘Car Wash Sluts Part 7: Deep Wax’?

                Then he recognized the patch on the right ass pocket, where he’d had to sew on a bit of curtain stolen from a skeevy motel room after a wendigo had almost ripped him a new one. Those were _his_ jeans, that he’d bought at a thrift store in St Louis, patched up several times, and finally thrown out when they got just too worn. But apparently, Dean had scooped them out of the garbage and cut off all the threadbare parts. Ie, most of them. The resulting shorts were, well, he was pretty sure you’d get arrested for wearing them in at least eight states.

                The waistband was a bit big for Dean and he wasn’t wearing a belt, so the shorts hung low on his hips, leaving a tantalizing strip of skin visible between his black T-shirt and the faded denim. But it was just as well they hung low, because they were already so short they were downright obscene, showing off all of Dean’s muscular legs. And then when he bent over to wipe the windshield…

                ‘Oh god,’ Sam muttered to himself, and tried hard not to let his hand stray to his crotch, where his dick was clamoring for attention. Dean was still too busy singing Led Zeppelin to notice him, but Sam was practically hyperventilating at the sight of his brother splayed over the car hood, his bow legs spread wide and ready, his ass turned up, two handfuls of flesh peeping out from under the shorts. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. And was he – oh god, he was waggling that ass, in time to music in his head. Sam thought he might actually die on the spot.

 

***

 

                ‘Need a woman gonna hold my hand, won’t tell me no lies, make me a happy man,’ sang Dean, squeezing out the sponge. He glanced up and saw Sam standing in the corner of the garage.

                ‘Hey Sam, how you doin’?’ He smiled. Sam’s answering smile looked a bit strained, and when he came over, he seemed to be walking a bit funny. Almost as if he was sporting a boner.

                ‘Dude, what’s up with the shorts?’ Sam asked.

                ‘Hey, it’s a free bunker,’ Dean said with a shrug, and went back to work with the sponge. He hadn’t gotten far though, when he felt a pair of strong hands on his hips.

                ‘Dean, you can’t wear something like that and expect me to just…’ Sam’s voice was husky, and then he lifted him up by the hips – actually goddam lifted him off his feet – and put him down again, half on the hood, bent over, feet swinging half a foot from the ground.

                ‘Sam! I’m trying to work here! Baby needs a clean!’

                ‘And you’re a dirty little…,’ growled Sam, leaning over him, pinning him against the wet metal, soapy water soaking into his clothes. His legs were between Dean’s, and he rubbed his hands up and down Dean’s thighs, pushing them apart, before grabbing his ass with both hands.

                ‘Sam!’ Dean gasped, ‘not now! Cas is here.’

                ‘He’s upstairs, he won’t see. And you really think he cares, anyway?’

                ‘I do think he cares, actually,’ said Dean, half to the wipers. ‘Maybe not about the inc- the I-word, but I think he –’

                ‘Oh, will you shut up about Cas!’ Sam groaned, and pushed his T-shirt up. ‘I’ve got blue balls and you’re wearing booty shorts. Made of my old jeans, I see.’

                ‘Yeah, you like them?’ Despite not feeling entirely comfortable with this scenario, Dean couldn’t resist waggling his ass a bit more, showing off the thin layer of worn denim and patch of ugly motel curtain material that barely covered his bare skin. Sam made a growling sound and tried to yank them off.

                ‘Not now!’ he said again, and pushed himself off the hood and away from his brother’s grabby hands.

                ‘You’re a dirty tease.’

                ‘And you’re a sex-crazed Sasquatch. Now, have you found anything on the Darkness? Or Metatron?’

               

***

 

‘No, still in the wind. No leads,’ groaned Sam, pushing his hair out of his sweaty face. He picked up a sponge and dipped it into the bucket, as if helping to wash the car could quell his lust. Actually, it couldn’t hurt. He pushed the sponge over the windshield.

‘Cas is getting better, so there’s that,’ he said. ‘He still wants to fix your…’

‘I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m 100%,’ said Dean, too quickly, despite the visible bruise under his left eye, and Sam felt the familiar rush of jealousy. He knew how much Cas had done for them both, but still… he didn’t like how he acted around Dean, or how Dean acted when the angel was in the bunker. Such as refusing to let his brother bang him bent over the hood of the Impala. That wasn’t like Dean.

‘Well he’s not, he still needs time to heal,’ Sam said, firmly. He wanted to make it quite clear that Cas was not going to tag along on the hunt he had lined up for them.

‘I don’t know about you, but I’ve got serious cabin fever,’ said Dean, and Sam grinned to himself. He’d have his brother to himself for a few days, at last.

 

***

 

Dean knew what Sam wanted, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to give it to him. Not right now. Sure, he’d dressed up in those shorts to see if he could still get a reaction out of him, and boy had that worked, but even so… something felt off. Wrong. He’d do anything for his little brother, but…

He looked at his eyes in the rearview mirror, and thought he looked tired, the creases in his skin deeper than ever. Closer to forty than thirty now, not counting all those years in Hell, and what had he got to show for it? He remembered how that baby had felt, nestled in his arms. What Crowley had said to him. ‘The child likes you. No surprise, really. You’re very maternal.’ He remembered – though he tried not to – Lisa, and Ben. And he thought about Cas, how he looked at him, as if all the secrets of the universe could be found within his eyes if he only stared hard enough. And he wondered, as he drove along the endless highway, was there somewhere he’d taken a wrong turning, some part of his life that should have turned out different?

He went to a roadhouse – on his own – and drank, and tried to flirt, but that didn’t feel right either. Then he got back to the car and found that Sam had dealt with his blue-balls problem by hooking up with a pretty waitress called Piper on the back seat. He took a peek – Sam half-naked, half stretched-out and half scrunched-up, his hair in a mess – and felt a weird mixture of happiness and a dull ache that lasted at least a hundred miles. After all, he told himself, he should feel happy if Sam had found someone, even if only a one-night-wonder-someone. Sam was the most important person in his life, so what made Sam happy, made Dean happy. He teased him with Bob Seger, they laughed as they ate Tex-Mex, and a tension which had been there since Sam had grabbed him from behind slowly eased.

Until Sam challenged him with the question he’d been trying not to pose himself:

‘You don’t ever want something more?’

Oh, so much more, thought Dean, but he knew he’d never say it. He tried to brush it off, but Sam kept going.

‘You don’t ever think about… something? With a hunter? Someone who understands the life?’

Something like what, thought Dean. And like who? An eccentric angel? His own goddam brother? They’d been down that road before. Too many times. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe how fucked up his own life was. Better to not think about it, tell Sam to get some Z’s, and keep driving into the night with nothing but Baby and his old cassette tapes for company.

 

***

 

                Dreams and visions. There was a difference, Sam knew, but sometimes it could be hard to tell. And then Dean telling him about his own dreams, dreams of this very car, but a different life. A normal life. Driving lessons, their father.

                And, as he drifted off to sleep on the back seat – his long legs bent to fit – he realized what was missing from Dean’s life, the thing that he could never give him.

                But if he couldn’t give Dean what he needed, he could at least show him he had a home, and people who loved him. He didn’t have to fight alone.

 

***

 

                Dean was bloodied and bruised, tireder than ever, and driving a half-wrecked, blood-spattered car by the time he found Sam after his encounter with the ghoulpire. As Mrs Markham went to embrace her children, he put his arm around him, felt his reassuring warmth and bulk, the sheer size of him an endless source of surprise that his little squirt brother could ever have grown so big.

                ‘Probably nothing?’ he said, as they staggered back to Baby.

                ‘Right,’ said Sam, wincing.

                As they sat behind the shattered windshield, talking about the Darkness, shards of broken glass digging into their thighs, Dean saw the pain and the blood on Sam’s face. And also saw the little bit of chest hair poking out from beneath his T-shirt, and saw the way his brother looked at him.

                ‘We’ll get Cas to fix you up,’ he said.

                ‘Only if he fixes you up too,’

                ‘Okay mom,’ said Dean, too tired to object. And if letting Cas get close to him meant Sam would be mended, he’d – well, he’d already established he’d do anything beyond the bounds of all reason to keep Sam whole and by his side. ‘Let’s go home.’

                ‘You know what?’ said Sam, tapping the dashboard, ‘we are home.’

 

***

 

                They’d only got a few miles away, into the middle of Nowhere, Oregon, when Dean pulled over at the side of the road, and took a long, deep sigh, his head thrown back.

                ‘You okay?’ Sam asked.

                ‘Oh yeah, I’m awesome. I’m as awesome as my car. I only just scrubbed her ‘til she gleamed, and now look at her. Baby needs a clean.’

                He looked disconsolately at the blood smeared all over the remaining windows.

                ‘It’s all right,’ said Sam, and reached over, the back of his hand brushing Dean’s cheek. ‘Everything. We’ll sort it out. We always do, one way or another. And you know…’

                He swallowed, suddenly lost for words, and saw those beautiful green eyes looking at him, as if he was the centre of the world. Those same green eyes which had always looked at him that way, and if the face around them had gotten older, well, that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except that they were together.

                ‘What do you want, Sammy?’ Dean asked, abruptly. Sam smiled at him, profoundly grateful for the opening.

                ‘I just want you, Dean. Always have done, always will. I’ve tried to pretend otherwise, but it never works. And if there’s been times when… I’ve done stuff maybe I shouldn’t have, that doesn’t change anything. You’re… you’re everything.’

                Dean closed his eyes, and leaned his face slightly as Sam continued stroking his cheek. Then he cupped his jaw with his fingers, thumb on his cheekbone, and pulled him in for a kiss. Dean opened his mouth, pressed against him with lips and tongue. He tasted of blood, stubble rough on his chin, and Sam felt himself dissolve with desire. No, not desire. Need. Whatever this thing was between them – love, family, some totally unhealthy tangled-up thing of their own special invention – they needed it. They kept getting older, and further away from anything resembling a normal life, but they could never, ever, stop needing each other.

                Sam pulled Dean in closer, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and pushed his tongue deep inside his mouth, claiming him all over again. Then a piece of broken glass pierced his jeans and dug into his thigh.

                ‘Ow!’ he cried, and pulled away.

                ‘You okay?’ Dean asked.

                ‘Yeah, just got attacked by a bit of windshield,’ said Sam, shifting in his seat, which only achieved getting stuck in a slightly different part of his leg. ‘Baby needs a clean all right.’ He smiled at his brother. ‘Hey, when we get back to the bunker, will you clean her wearing those slutty short shorts again?’

                Dean smiled. ‘If you want.’

                ‘Yeah, I want.’

                They started leaning in for another kiss, and this time it was Dean who got attacked by stray pieces of windshield.

                ‘Ow, that broken glass hurts like a mother,’ he cried, and practically jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Sam climbed out of the shotgun side and walked round, pushed him against the half-destroyed side of the car and set about kissing him some more, his skin hot and crawling with want, his hands pushing up beneath Dean’s clothes.

                They came up for air, gasping.

                ‘Dean, I need… can I… over the hood?’ Sam could barely form words, let alone sentences, but Dean understood him all right. He nodded, panting, his lips pink and gorgeous.

                Sam walked back round to the shotgun side, reached into the glove compartment, and found the lube they always kept there. By the time he’d got it, Dean had already braced himself face-down over the front of the car, bow legs spread.

                ‘Good work, but not quite there,’ Sam said with a laugh, and grabbed hold of his hips to lift him clean up off the ground and deposit him just a little bit further onto the hood with a sound of crunching metal. Dean moaned, waving his feet, and Sam smacked him on the ass, hard.

                ‘Sam!’

                ‘Oh, you like it rough,’ said Sam, and Dean gave no answer except heavy breathing. They both knew it was true. Sam grabbed him again and manhandled him until he was position, spreadeagled to his satisfaction, and then, without being told, Dean lifted himself up slightly with his hands so Sam could reach round to undo his belt and pull his jeans down, just far enough to access that perfect curve of ass.

                He stood back, to undo his own jeans, and admire the sight. And as he stepped away, the absurdity of it all suddenly struck him: here he was, in broad daylight and a random field in Oregon, about to fuck his own brother over the hood of a smashed-up Chevy Impala. He couldn’t help laughing.

                ‘What’s funny?’ Dean demanded, and waggled his backside a little bit.

                ‘Oh nothing. It’s just our lives are weird sometimes.’

                ‘Dude, our lives are weird all the time. But they’re the only lives we’ve got. So get on with it before I pull my jeans back up.’

                ‘You won’t do that ‘til I’m finished with you,’ said Sam, and smacked him on the ass again, which left a nice red mark. Holding Dean down with one hand on his lower back, he got his cock out with his other hand, stroked himself a few times, then used both hands to spread the lube all down the shaft. He didn’t bother with a condom – sure, he’d used protection with Piper, and all the other guys and girls he’d ever been with, but Dean would take him bare. He always did.

                ‘You need much prep?’ he asked, sliding his fingers down Dean’s ass crack and over his puckered hole.

                ‘No, just – now.’

                Sam grinned at that. Sure, sometimes it was good to open him up slowly, but sometimes he just wanted to fuck him, tight and hot and fucking _primal_. He lined himself up, and slid half-way inside, in one smooth motion, then withdrew almost completely before slamming all the way home with such force that the car jumped and rattled and Dean let out a groan.

                ‘God, Sam, yeah, I need…’

                ‘Shut up. I know what you need.’

                And he did. He knew everything Dean needed, and he knew he couldn’t give him everything, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t give him a child. He couldn’t give him a normal life. He couldn’t keep him safe forever, though he’d sure as hell die trying. But he could give him love – fucked-up, dangerously co-dependent, incestuous love – and he could give him a good hard fucking on the hood of his car. So Sam took hold of Dean’s hips and pounded into him until the sparks of pleasure filled his brain and he forgot about everything else in the whole world because Dean was his world, the only thing he cared about, and he yelled his name into the empty air and came deep inside him then withdrew and flipped him over and bent down to suck him while the semen dripped down his thighs onto the bent metal beneath.

                ‘Sammy, Sammy,’ moaned Dean, his hand tangled in Sam’s hair, tugging slightly, making his scalp tingle. It didn’t take him long to come, pouring himself into Sam’s mouth then sliding down the Impala onto the muddy ground. Sam swallowed and flopped beside him while they both struggled to get their breath back.

                ‘Oh God,’ said Dean, looking up at the car, ‘Baby needs more than a clean. I’m going to have to rebuild her again. With no Bobby to help this time.’

                ‘You’ll manage it all right,’ said Sam, curling up against him, head on his shoulder, arm around his waist, the same way he had done since he was about four. ‘You always do.’

                Dean smiled, wrapped one arm around him, squeezed his brother’s body against his own, and gently stroked his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are very welcome.  
> I'm on tumblr: www.tumblr.com/blog/persephone-garnata


End file.
